Lacoste

Resting on each seat before the Lacoste show was a book explaining that during World War II, René Lacoste and his wife initiated a tree development project for their family golf course that operated as a means of protecting German citizens from conscription (long-standing legalities protected forestry workers from partaking in the war effort). That golf course served as the starting point for a collection that paid tribute to the bourgeois Forties outerwear that might have been worn there – khaki ponchos, rubber wellies and Prince of Wales coats – as well as Marilyn Monroe denims and shrunken little sweatshirts.

It was, explained Felipe Oliveira Baptista, inspired by the British royal family but it was less literal than The Crown and more about a fantasy of aristocracy. “There’s a tradition in the imaginiare collectif about the English and the countryside” he smiled, seemingly aware that – in spite of studying in London – his viewpoint is certainly foreign. But that perspective appeared rather sweet: even when the collection segued into Eighties tracksuits and Princess Di two-pieces, it avoided comic pastiche and somehow felt fresh.

“Now that streetwear has become a new basic, the house honours the variety of its heritage by starting a conversation between multiple spheres, dress codes and icons,” read the show notes – and it’s a savvy move. Other brands capitalising on the trend have needed to eschew their archives, or at least extremely manipulate them. At Lacoste, Baptista has 85 years of history to play with, and he’s clearly reviling in it.